“They’ll realize it’s a lie. They’ll see who you are and understand this is nothing but a sordid plan.” My mother’s certainty doesn’t seep into my skin, but it sends a tiny ripple of hope through my heart. She kisses my forehead, and the moment she steps away, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says.
I wait anxiously for her to come back. People refuse to look at me, refuse to go to the shop to buy anything—who would be willing to visit us now? The answer comes faster than I’d like and is definitely not what I want to hear. Less than five minutes later, my mother appears in my doorway, her expression tight with apprehension.
“There are two men downstairs, Nina. They say they’re Nero’s lawyers.”
CHAPTER 47
NINA MARCHESI
It’s a different clinic, but the feeling in my chest is the same as it was weeks ago. That day, I didn’t recognize it as a warning of something bad—though I should have. Today, however, I distrust even my own shadow.
I don’t want to be here. The opulent luxury presses in on me, and the memories of everything Dr. Kayrus said make me nauseous.
I tap my foot anxiously against the floor, repeating to myself over and over that I can’t get up and leave, no matter how much the judging looks of the other pregnant women around me worsen my sickness. Receiving prenatal care on the island was one of Nero’s demands.
That’s what his lawyers wanted to talk about—his demands. After two weeks, he not only remembered that the woman he publicly cast out is carrying his child, but he demanded a DNA test and made it clear that if it comes back positive, he’ll take my child from me. I’m terrified.
Nero was inflexible. His lawyers were, really—because he didn’t speak to me himself. He sent his demands and threats through men in suits who, thankfully, weren’t Atlas or Apollo, or I don’t know if I would’ve endured it.
One thing I’ve learned over the past weeks is that it’s much easier to deal with the contempt of people I never cared about. Contempt from familiar faces—from those I used to exchange smiles and words with—hurts far more.
Atlas called me almost the second Nero’s lawyers left my house. I hesitated to answer, afraid he might be calling as yet another legal representative for Nero.
Because even though neither Atlas, nor Apollo, nor Drako came looking for me to point a finger, none of them came to hear my side of the story either.
I accepted the call only because he took care of me on the day everything happened. I trusted that, despite everything, he hadn’t been poisoned against me the way his best friend had.
His first question was how the baby and I were doing—and it made me cry. My stupid heart couldn’t stop itself from wishing it were Nero asking that question, wishing everything I’d been living through these past weeks was nothing but a nightmare I was about to wake from.
Atlas told me that neither he nor Apollo would represent their friend, because they wouldn’t choose sides. And even though that hurt a little—because to choose a side, you should first hear both—it made me feel like maybe I could have an ally. And I need everyone I can count on.
Because if just remembering the lawyers’ words makes my heart race, three days ago, when they left my house, I felt like I was about to fall apart right there in the middle of the living room.
But if Atlas and Apollo were willing to talk to Nero, to try to convince him, maybe he would abandon this cruel idea of taking my child from me. Because I have no doubt—if he wants to do it, he can.
It never crossed my mind to keep Nero away from our child. Until his lawyers’ visit, I assumed he had rejected the baby the same way he rejected me. After his threats and demands, however, I understood that the issue is that he doubts whether the child I’m carrying is his or not.
What he is certain of, though, is that “someone like me isn’t fit to raise a child—least of all his.” His words, not mine. And the more I think about them, the more fear threatens to swallow me.
“Nina Marchesi.” The uniformed woman calls my name without any warmth, and I stand.
This time, when I enter the exam room, the doctor is already waiting for me. There’s no offer of pills this afternoon. Just an appointment that manages to be, at once, indifferent and meticulous—completely indifferent to me and entirely devoted to Nero Zanthos’s child.
I leave the clinic feeling dazed, having been treated as if my body were nothing more than a vessel. The idea that the man I loved—love—is subjecting me to this makes me momentarily lose the little balance I’d just regained.
I step off the curb and cross the street with my vision blurred by unshed tears, and a loud honk yanks me out of the chaos in my head. I jump back, startled, as a car nearly runs me over.
I clutch my chest, my breathing faltering, eyes wide and wet, my heart threatening to leap from my throat. I don’t even see the car that almost hit me make a U-turn a few meters ahead, but I hear it when the driver rolls the window down and speaks directly to me, driving slowly enough to make it clear he’s addressing me.
“Lysandra Zanthos sends her regards. Khione’s streets aren’t safe anymore for people like you. You should be more careful when you’re out and about—after all, accidents can always happen.” He recites it word for word, like a robot triggered by remote control—and if I thought I was scared before, what I feel now goes beyond anything a human being should be made to endure.
***
“We need to leave,” my mother decides as soon as I finish telling her everything that happened, detail by detail. I pace back and forth in front of the sofas in our living room.
“Leave?” My voice comes out shrill, still completely consumed by panic.
“That woman… I always knew that family was powerful, my daughter. But now that we know the kind of things they use their power for, I doubt nothing. We need to leave,” she repeats, and I let my body sink into the couch, hiding my face in my hands.
